


Married at First Sight

by FunkyPangolin



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Idiots in Love, Something happy because Donald Trump being elected President has killed my soul, Wedding Fluff, crazy relatives, hella gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8528299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyPangolin/pseuds/FunkyPangolin
Summary: Doomed singletons Cosima and Delphine find their lives turned upside-down after they are signed up for the reality show "Married at First Sight USA". Will they find Mrs Right or will it end it in disaster? (It won't, I promise to give these gal pals a happy ending)





	1. Chapter 1

“Clarisse, qu'est-ce que tu fais? “ Delphine whined at her younger sister, who had devilish look in her eye as she typed and clicked on the laptop, after Delphine had been grumbling about her latest disaster of a blind date, whilst swigging from the bottle she had taken from the restaurant after her date mysteriously disappeared through a back door after going to the bathroom, leaving her to foot the bill after ordering lobster and steak and the most expensive red wine on the menu, which Delphine had to note, was quite impressive. She swirled it in her mouth as she sighed dramatically at her sister's antics, sinking deeply into the white sofa.

“Ne vous inquiétez pas, Delphine, je vous trouver un rancard amoreux” (Don't worry, Delphine, I'm finding you a date.) She shot back gleefully.

“Quoi? Clarisse, non! 'Married at First Sight USA'?” (What? Clarisse, no!) Delphine's eyes widened to the size of saucers as she took in what was happening but by then her sister had hit send on her application. Delphine shrieked and launched herself at her sister who locked herself in the bathroom with her laptop.

“Clarisse, ouvre la porte immédiatement! Je vais te tuer! Connasse!” (Clarisse, open the door immediately! I am going to kill you! Bitch!) Delphine banged furiously at the door and she was becoming slightly hysterical due to the copious amount of alcohol she had drunk, and the sound of her sister sniggering behind the door.  
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
Eleven miles away

“Sarah, what the fuck have you just done on my computer? How do you even know the password? I changed it to stop you going on it when you are drunk.” Cosima accused pushing her glasses up where they had slid down her nose in her rage.

“Little sis, you are too good, maybe don't make your password 'Teslaisbae' next time, yeh?” Sarah chuckled, unashamed.

“Fuck off, Sarah. Just tell me what you did.” Cosima sighed, placing her hands on her hips, staring down at her sister who was absolutely off her head on alcohol and Ecstasy and who was sprawled on Cosima's bed like a starfish.

“I may have signed you up for something... but it was all Felix's idea, I swear!” She grinned .

“Uh huh. Cut the crap, Sarah. What was it?” Cosima narrowed her eyes. Unfortunately she was not a very threatening person at the best of times so Sarah found it hard to take her younger sister seriously.

“There's this English show that I used to watch all the time in Camden called “Married at First sight” or some bollocks...anyway it was mental, and I found out there's an American version now, and Felix dared me to sign you up.” She howled with laughter at the story, kicking Cosima's red sheets onto the floor.

“You signed me up. To get married. At First sight. To a stranger.” Cosima's jarring sentences were due to her exasperation with her sister and Felix, both of whom had never really grown up, unlike her and Alison and Rachel.

“That about covers it, yeh.” Sarah replied nonchalantly, smiling like a Chesire cat.

“Christ. I need to smoke some weed right now.” Cosima stormed off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that the last time I spoke French was five years ago, so Google Translate and Wordreference have been my friends. Sorry if it's wrong.

Delphine:

The days progressed as they had always done. Delphine carried on working shifts at the hospital after she had received funding for her research project about host parasite relationships when she wasn't working in the trauma bay. One day she received a questionnaire in her email inbox, which she grudgingly filled in after calling her sister and swearing at her once again for signing her up to this. 

She wondered why she was even doing this. After all, her annoying bitch of a sister had made the point that she could pull out at any time. But, a small part of her was curious and maybe a little bit desperate. So she filled in ridiculous rubbish about which sibling she was and whether she considered herself an optimist or not and the length of her longest relationship. She ticked boxes and circled numbers on scales until she came to three small boxes at the bottom. They said:  
Heterosexual, Homosexual and Bisexual.

 _Here goes nothing,_ she thought as she ticked the last one.

Cosima:

She had heard nothing about that thing that Sarah had signed her up for, and she was starting to wonder if she was so off her head that she made it up. After changing her password for the fifth time this week: Curiewasdabomb (She was a creature of habit after all), she discovered a new email in her inbox from the address “marriedatfirstsight@usa.com” and clicked hesitantly, cursing the punk.

She filled in the questionnaire, laughing hysterically at the stupidity of some of the questions :  
“ What colour best describes your personality?”, “Would you enjoy being a zookeeper?” and her personal favourite: “Do you believe in extraterrestrials?”. (Red, Yes, and Yes). 

She came to the bottom of the questionnaire after about ten minutes and saw three boxes: Heterosexual, Homosexual, and Bisexual. She rolled her eyes at the simplicity of the options, making a mental note to send a follow-up email educating the writers about the Kinsey scale.

She ticked the homosexual box and sent the form into cyberspace, slightly questioning her sanity, her dreads twirling haphazardly as she shook her head.

/////////

Delphine:

Today had been a slow day at the hospital. Only three people had come in to the ER; an old man with the flu that she had sent home with ibuprofen, a kid who had fallen of his skateboard and a cold businesswoman with a severe blonde bob and an abrasive personality who had been involved in a minor car accident. She was most indignant with the neck brace she had been forced to wear by Delphine, saying that no-one tells Rachel Duncan what to do, especially not the French. In fact 'the only good thing that the French had done was beat those 'arrogant Icelandic bastards' at the Euros.' Delphine tried in vain to calm her, but eventually had to call security after being lectured about how she was probably a beret-wearing, baguette-consuming, flag-waving nationalist. 

She was just pulling off her gloves for the night to check on her research project and disposing them into the bin, when there was a commotion at the sliding doors to the ER. Distinct cries of “Ma'am, please” and “Calm down, miss” could be heard from the utterly flustered nurses and receptionists who ran the admissions desk, when Delphine heard a lot of loud and irate yelling that seemed to be coming from a tiny brunette ball of fury who held a very unsteady, lanky man by the tops of his arms in a vice grip.

Delphine snapped on some new latex free gloves and headed towards the pair. The brunette woman demanded to know if she was the doctor.

 _This is turning into the absolute best day_ , she thought, sighing at the angry british woman.

“I am the doctor here, my name is Dr. Cormier. What seems to be the problem with your, erm, companion?”  
“Don't get any big ideas that we're together, Frenchie. This 'ere's my brother Felix; that's all kinds of weird. Plus he's gay as a bloody leprechaun.”

At this Delphine's eyes widened; she was not familiar with these leprechauns.

“Not ringing a bell, love? Little green geezers from Ireland, you know, shamrock hats. Anyway, not the point. The point is that my bloody imbecile of a brother has gone and got himself alcohol poisoning at that new Neolution club, fucking tosser that he is.”

Delphine called for a nurse to help her lay Felix down on a hospital bed and then she placed an IV or a so-called banana bag to help him sober up, until she determined whether he would need his stomach pumped. As it turned out, he was mostly fine, waking up after three hours, with a cracking hangover where he preceded to fill three kidney shaped bowls with vomit which Delphine held for him with a grimace, before she preceded to fill out his name on a prescription for some aspirin. She could see a certain resemblance between her and the businesswoman from earlier so she asked whether they were related.

“Yeah, unfortunately. Rachel's my sister.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“I can definitely see some resemblance.” Delphine smirked.

“Don't be a bitch. I know she isn't exactly charming but she's alright mostly.”

“She seems to have a burning hatred for the French.”Delphine remarked casually.

“I think she has a burning hatred for everyone that breathes, love. Don't flatter yerself. By the way, thanks for that. I know my family is a bit... intense. She really is grateful not to have a broken neck, even though she probably didn't show it. I think you would probably get on with one of my other sisters more, she's a smartypants like you. ”

“Hmm. Maybe I will meet her...the night is still young, after all.” She chuckled.  
Sarah groaned at her attempt at humour.

 

She got home three hours later. She threw her keys in the bowl and shouted after her sister, who seemed to spend as much time there as she did at her own house. She received no reply and dug out a frozen meal to cook in the oven. It was times like this that she wished that she owned a microwave, but then knew that her grandfather would probably roll in his grave if she purchased one. That had most likely happened already when she came out to her parents, she realised with a scoff as she stuck a post-it to the fridge that said: “Buy Microwave” with those ridiculous whimsical fridge magnets that her sister had given her as a housewarming gift.

Suddenly her phone rang. _Who calls at this time?!_

She realised that it was actually 9am already as she picked up the phone.

“Hello, Delphine Cormier. Who is calling?” She sounded a little clipped at cringed internally at her rudeness.

Seemingly undeterred, the voice responded: “Good Morning Dr Cormier, my name is Marion Bowles, I am the relationship psychologist from Married at First Sight USA. I just wanted to let you know that we have some good news for you.”

“Yes? Please tell me.”

“We have found you a great match. Her name is Cosima. Unfortunately, I can tell you nothing more. I only ask that you call back at a convenient time to arrange the details.”

“Very well. I need a minute.” She sighed, pinching her nose.

“Of course. Congratulations once again, Doctor.”

Delphine placed her phone on the counter, sighing.

_Merde. Merde. Merde. What am I doing?_

_Cosima...a nice name._ She googled it's etymology.

_Huh, she's probably Italian. Interesting. I wonder what she looks like._

_Maybe I can do this._  
Maybe I should.  
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Cosima drummed her fingers on the desk. Her latest experiment had proved annoyingly inconclusive, neither proving nor disproving her null hypothesis and worst of all, the calculations she had worked on for the last half an hour were proving fruitless which indicated that she must have made a mistake somewhere. She was a scientist dammit! Scientists are not supposed to make such careless mistakes as misjudging volume. After all, she had even earned the nickname “Titration Queen” among the people on her course after she did a perfect acid-base titration in under a minute.

It was just one of those days, she decided and stood up and stretched her spine, arms high in the air, her bangles clinking against each other pleasingly, before she swinging her unicorn tote bag over one shoulder and locking her lab, ready for a quick stroll before returning to the grindstone.

Just as she was about to bite into her goats' cheese and red onion chutney sandwich, her bra started to vibrate, from when she had shoved her phone inside earlier after discovering that nowhere on her person did she have any pockets suitably sized for it. She had decided that there was a special place in hell for the people that had the audacity to make convincing fake pockets on womens' jeans.

She sighed and put down her untouched sandwich before answering.

“Hello? This is Cosima Niehaus.”

“Oh yes, Miss Niehaus, my name is Marion Bowles, I'm the relationship psychologist from Married at First Sight USA. I just wanted to let you know that we have some good news for you.”

“Oh uh...shoot I guess” What are you doing Cosima?  
“We have found you a very good match. Her name is Delphine. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you about her. I would appreciate if you could call me back on this number to arrange a mutually convenient date for your wedding.”

“OK...sure. I just need a minute to think about this.”

“Of course. Let me know what you decide. And congratulations. Goodbye.” Cosima heard a click from the other end.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Am I really going to do this?_

_Delphine. That's a nice name. I wonder if she's hot. She must be French. Is she French-French? Is she French-Canadian? Oooh, she could be Nigerian-French or Ivory Coast-French or Haitian-French or..._

_French-French,_ she decided. _With really tan skin, like she's from the South or something, and like, brown hair and eyes. She'll look Mediterranean, I bet._

Cosima picked up her rapidly cooling sandwich and bit into it hungrily, pondering the repercussions of following through with this.

Unfortunately, the sandwich was a disappointment as the goats' cheese was very overpowering as was often a danger that came with ordering from a place that she had not visited before, which clearly held some very incompetent chefs if they made such a mistake. _Amateur hour._

Still, it was food and she ploughed through it before returning to her lab to figure out her experiment.

_Maybe I can do this.  
Maybe I will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I am one of those arrogant Icelandic bastards and it was very sad to lose to the French. Still we beat England and a ton of my family is French so it's all good.


End file.
